Urchins
by KaizokuShojo
Summary: Answer to KCS's "how did Holmes meet the Irregulars" prompt. Holmes finds a useful tool for his new profession.


_**Urchins**_

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_**DISCLAIMER**_**: **_**Creatorship of the Sherlock Holmes stories belongs to the remarkable Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**_

**KS: Here's the answer to KCS's "How did Holmes meet the Irregulars" prompt. Sorry it sounds like some that have been done, but this is pretty much how I see it happening. And it's a bit sketchy, but I wrote it while feeling rather unwell.**

**I did have a better version of this, but when I tried to save it in the doc manager, it WOULDN'T GO THROUGH... so I hate the site's doc manager...XD**

**Forgive my attempts at Cockney if they aren't perfect…XD It's nearly impossible to replicate such sounds and still have it recognisable… -fetches **_**Pygmalion**_** book for reference-**

**Enjoy!**

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I was walking down the street, turning the facts of my most recent case over in my mind. I was so absorbed in the matter of the robbery that I almost did not notice the little disreputable urchin slink up behind me and slip his hand into my pocket.

I snatched the little wrist, spinning to look into the dirty face of the lad that had just tried to pick my pocket.

"O-oi!" the boy exclaimed as he struggled to free himself, "Oi didn't do nuffin' ta yew, gov! Oi swear it, oi wasn' troiyn ta steol yer money."

I opened my mouth to give the lad the proper talking to he deserved to discourage such behaviour in the future, but before I could begin a slightly taller, older boy came running up.

"Oi'm sorry, gov," he said, grabbing the younger boy by the shoulder and glaring at him before looking back up at me apologetically. "'E didn' mean anyfing by it. 'E's me brova, y'know? Gotta watch 'im close, 'else 'e's runnin' off ta get into some sort'a trouble, 'e is."

I cocked an eyebrow at the older boy's bravery. "He's not your brother," I said knowingly. "But, it's interesting that you would place yourself in a position of trouble to get him out of one."

The older boy stuck his bottom lip out stubbornly. "Oll roight, so 'e's not me brova, but 'e might as well be. And yew hain't got no roight grabbin' 'im loike that."

"Tell me, lad," I began thoughtfully, "are you always this bold?"

He seemed a bit taken aback by my question. "Oi…s'pose oi am…why yew ask?" he replied, narrowing his dark eyes.

"How would you and your little friends like to make a little money?" I released the younger boy to show I held no ill will.

"Money? What yew got in mind, sir?"

"A shilling for each boy you can get to do a simple job for me—nothing too dangerous, and nothing illegal. And there's a bonus in it for you if you do extra well…"

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When I had agreed to give a shilling to each boy the lad named "Wiggins" could gather to do the job, I had no idea that he had a small army under his care. And I now had a small army of dirty little street Arabs in my rooms on Montague Street.

Truthfully there were only eight, but it seemed like far more in the small space we were occupying. They were making such an ungodly noise that I knew that if I did not pacify them soon I would surely finally be thrown out of my lodgings. At last, an idea struck me.

"Attention!" I said sharply, standing tall.

The boys immediately took notice, and a few of them even snapped to attention as I was now. I smiled inwardly, glad the idea was working thus far. "Line up to report!"

"Sir?" one asked, his soot-smeared brow furrowing.

"Line up, line up!" I repeated. "I can't have my men so disorderly!"

The boys immediately seemed to understand and bustled about comically to form a decent line. I looked them over with a "critical eye", nodding my approval and eliciting a poorly-suppressed smile from more than one.

"All right, Wiggins. Did any of you find it?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Finley's got it."

A small boy with fiery red hair darkened with filth reached into his trouser-pocket excitedly before his little face fell. "Uh-oh…" he muttered.

"Wha' is it?" Wiggins asked before even I could.

"I fink it feol out'a th' 'ole in me pocket," the boy said with wide-eyes, no doubt thinking of the wages he had just lost.

"Hole?" I gasped. "You put it into a pocket with a _hole_ in it?"

The boy promptly reached into his other pocket, and his face brightened. "Ah, 'ere it is," he said, relieved. "I found it roight like yew said, gov."

He handed the vital clue over to me, and I inspected it carefully. Perfect…this would have that villain Rogers in gaol for a long time.

"Excellent," said I. "Now, a shilling for each of you, and…" I reached into my waistcoat-pocket, "a half-sovereign extra to Finley for finding it."

The small child's eyes went as large as saucers at the sight of the coin, and I believe he would have fallen backwards had his companions not clapped him on the back in congratulations.

"Now," I said, clasping my hands behind my back, "you've done very well; perhaps I will hire you again to help me if I need assistance in the future. For now, you're dismissed!"

The naked feet slapped hard against the floors as all the young boys ran out whooping excitedly, but Wiggins stayed behind.

"'Scuse me, guv'nor?"

"Yes?" I asked.

"If'n you _do_ need us again…d'you fink you'll be able to find us, sir?"

"I am sure that I should have very little difficulty as long as you do not move around too much. I can tell where you've been."

"What yew mean, 'tell where oi've been'?"

"The mud on your cuffs is too mixed by your great daily route to tell where you reside, but the mud on the rest of you is mostly from one location—as it was with the rest of your little group."

The boy's eyes widened. "Blimey, yew can tell where we live just by lookin' at our mud?"

"Of course," I replied simply.

"Blimey…" was all the boy could say.

"Now run along, lad. I must get to work."

"Oll roigt, guv'nor," the boy said. "Thank yew for th' work. Th' boys don't always loike pickin' pockets, but they've gotta do somefin."

The last bit was said in such earnestness that I looked up from the paper I was looking over at the departing figure of the thin boy.

_Hm._

I was sure it wouldn't be too much difficulty in employing the little urchins from time to time. After all, they were much freer than even I could be in disguise. Only the most suspicious criminals would wonder at the presence of the ubiquitous street Arab.

I had just found a valuable tool for my new profession.

And, perhaps, it would help those boys out a bit, too.

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**KS: Thanks for reading, don't forget to review!**


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